


hierodule

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Altar Sex, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, Breeding Kink, Come Inflation, Emperor Armitage Hux, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knotting, Large Cock, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Muscle Kink, Objectification, Omega Armitage Hux, Penis Size, Power Bottom Armitage Hux, Public Sex, Ritual Public Sex, Size Kink, Slurs, Tattooed Kylo Ren, Warrior Kylo Ren, its sort of based in the canon setting and sort of medieval in nature, mpreg mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 23:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: The rebellious warriors of Ren have been slain nearly down to the man, leaving Emperor Armitage Hux unchallenged as he spreads his reign across their lands. But his guards have brought him a trophy from the battle—the alpha leader of the slaughtered clan, rendered naked and helpless so he can pleasure Hux with his unnaturally sized cock.





	hierodule

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this prompt](https://twitter.com/kylux_kinks/status/1171578641370832903) posted on the kylux_kinks twitter and...you know me. I had to. 
> 
> This kind of turned into a monster and features more word-building than I intended. In my head, this AU sort of turned into a blend of a more archaic, almost medieval emperor Hux setting, but combined with some of the alien environments and technology of the canon SW universe. Perhaps it takes place on a planet only recently beginning to branch out and connect with the rest of the galaxy? I don't know! Mostly this is just porn, but I don't want the setting to seem too jarring or confusing.
> 
> Enjoy!

Not an inch of land within the boundaries of Emperor Armitage Hux’s domain has escaped his insatiable desire to reshape, reform, and revolutionize. Not the shimmering deserts to the south, now matrixed in a flourishing marvel of irrigation. Not the lush, emerald forests to the west, full of aromatic, darkwood trees that his soldiers clear to build furniture and fuel the hearths of many. Not the tundra to the north, where the fur mills churn out cloaks to clothe his citizens in the cold times. Not even the skies, which flock with simple spacecrafts, only the beginnings of a proper fleet. 

Not even the people—including both those currently filling his throne room in droves, and those living far beyond its walls. Not even those who didn’t yet fully realize that they belong to him. 

Hux keeps his back straight against his gilded throne even as the relaxed feeling of satisfaction that usually comes with sitting in his exalted seat washes over him. He considers himself the most paramount ruler these lands have ever seen, and he wants to exude an aura of such at all times. Not that he has much genuine competition in that regard—his predecessors had been content to sit on their laurels, growing fat and feeble on their meager holdings, commanding their subjects till the fields and work in the anthracite mine until their palms cracked and bled and their lungs filled with dust. A grimace of memory briefly shadows Hux’s face, before smoothing into its usual immaculate mien. Hux had once held a close familiarity with those kind of men—alphas who relished in having those beneath them abused for their amusement, as a cover for their own lack of any _ real _ power. He’d resolved long ago to never be like any of them. 

Fortunately, just like the people they had hurt for so long, those alphas had been mere mortals. A simple poisoning had set the stage beautifully for the coup Hux knew that the empire needed in order to thrive. Once their corpses had rotted unmourned and unconsecrated, he’d wasted no time establishing this new era—beginning with the demolition of the old, decrepit castle, replacing its limewash walls and empty luxury with a palace of true, dignified splendor. A proper symbol of Hux’s power.

The entire structure, from its foundation all the way up to its highest tower, is comprised of flawless stone quarried for this exact purpose—to give everything a shining, symmetrical appearance, to engender a sense of awe and rapturous insignificance in all who entered to admire the beauty of both the architecture and the emperor that had inspired it into being. The gleaming white of the walls and floor and ceiling matches seamlessly with Hux’s attire, as does the cushioned throne with his shock of fiery hair—one of the few spots of red in their respective undisturbed seas of white. 

Such an allusion is all by design. Hux wants everyone who comes to his court to know that he _ is _his palace, and by extension his empire. That he is the strong heart encased in buttressed ribs and columns, his adoring subjects the blood funneling into him. After all, a man without enraptured masses was a man without real power. Only a true ruler could inspire so much ardent, unconditional devotion. 

And Hux had earned it all in spite of being born with a designation many believed made him inferior and unfit to lead. But he had killed all those naysayers long ago, leaving only those who were entirely loyal left. His existing subjects have no issue bowing and scraping before an omega, a contrary thought never even crossing their minds. To them, Hux is their benevolent, almighty emperor—nay, their _God_, and they worship him as such. They flock to the grand space of his throne room whenever he admits them, compelled to rapt attention and awe by his mere presence.

However, Hux hasn’t invited them into his throne room today _ only _ to bask in his glory. It’s a welcome side effect, to be sure, and Hux is never going to deny them their desire to revere him, but today he has something truly extraordinary for them to witness. 

A heralding call rings from open double doors. His subjects turn their heads, movement rippling through the pews. Hux remains seated on his throne and merely tilts his chin up, eyes narrowing at the silhouettes that now fill the grand doorway. As they step inside, the pristine ceramic armor of his guards fade into view, led into the hall by their chrome-plated captain. He does sit up in attention, though, when he sees the prize that his guards have brought to offer up to the emperor. 

Even at a distance, Hux recognizes the man by his wild mane of hair and distinctive, corrugated scar stamped into his skin, as if left by the tread marks of a carriage wheel. Hux had seen that visage staring back at him from the wanted posters plastered on all the buildings in the settlement surrounding his palace, the barbaric hatred in his eyes translated so well with ink it disturbed all who locked their gaze with it. Though when Hux had looked into those pits, he hadn’t felt anything but fury and contempt for this persisting thorn in his side, attempting to bleed out his empire with petty skirmishes and primitive methods of propaganda. To speak truth, Hux had been plotting to kill him along with the rest of his noisome clan. 

But a significant, world-shattering discovery by his spies had wound up changing his mind. Now, Hux has far different, more exciting plans for his new acquisition. 

He looks on with building anticipation as the alpha is thrust into the throne room, doors closing with a tremendous _ slam _ behind him. He had been stripped bare by the guards on Hux’s orders, primarily to humiliate him as they paraded his nude body through the streets—but also because it allowed Hux to get a proper look at the cock hanging heavy between his bare thighs. He sits forward in his seat, salivating behind a tight-lipped, forcibly neutral smile as he watches it with growing hunger. It bounces and sways with each of the alpha’s heavy, dragging steps, thick and veined and springing forth from a mass of matted black curls. Much like the broad chest and arms also on display, it’s tattooed with a vermillion ink so dark it looks black, though only with a braided ring around the base. Any more than that, Hux reasons, might’ve broken even the hardiest warrior. 

The alpha’s grunts echo around the hushed hall as the guards tug him down the carpet splitting the rows of pews. Dark drops of blood dot the lush fabric beneath his feet, falling from the thick rivulets pooling down the line of his jaw. Despite his wounds, the alpha is still fighting, as has been ingrained in him since birth by hard living, instinct, and the bloodthirsty traditions of his clan alike. He fights, because he still does not know the joy it is to submit, to be wholly taken by another person. _ Enveloped_, subsumed. Conquered. 

Hux intends to show the proud alpha that, right now, in front of all of his enraptured subjects. 

Behind Hux’s throne, an oculus cuts into the chancel wall bathes a raised altar in faint, glimmering light. It sits at the highest point in the throne room—atop a grand, stone pillar, each fluted side flanked by twin staircases that meet at the altar and end curled around the foot of Hux’s throne. A sleek, marmoreal slab dominates the top of the altar, the veins of leached gold shot throughout the stone collecting light so well it could blind. 

It’s where the alpha will meet the end of his life as a warrior. 

Hux rises as his guards shove the alpha to his knees. Still struggling, he turns his head to snap at one of their polished gauntlets, but it earns him little more than a sharp _ thwack _ to the skull from the butt of a steel baton. 

Hux holds up his hand when his captain moves to strike the alpha again, eyes focused at his bowed head. The tangle of black hair glistens with fresh blood, but despite that the alpha looks up, eyes intense, predatorial, even as the flesh around them blackens with bruising. 

The disparity between the two of them could never be more apparent than it is in that moment, their first real meeting. 

Unlike the alpha, Hux is clothed from the tips of his soft white loafers to the glinting crown nested amidst his hair. In between all that Hux wears a mantle of gold and ivory that broadens his shoulders to an inhuman breadth, designed to distinguish him from everyone else in the throne room, including the gathered peasantry in their simple clothes and especially the captive alpha with his coarse nudity. It’s powerful but elegant, almost ethereal in its construction. From its embossed edges flows curtains of gauzy white, teasing on the edge of translucent and woven with intricate, stelliferous designs and runic praises alike that start midway down and come to pool together at the sweeping hem. It’s Hux’s most beloved garment, a symbol of his power much like the palace. It both draws attention to his body and hides it, establishing Hux as something both worshipped and untouchable, an idol in and of himself. To his subjects, he is nothing less than their entire world—a God-King, the man who reigns in totality over every aspect of their pitiful lives.

Hux narrows his eyes, taking a couple of steps away from his throne. The alpha watches him draw nearer, breath harsh as he licks the split in his lip. 

Hux knows he is nothing close to a benevolent God-King in the eyes of this alpha. Despite all the breathtaking splendor around him, to the alpha Hux is still nothing more than a vicious conqueror hungry for slaughter, a greedy slaver looking for more bodies to suppress beneath his ever-encroaching yoke. Hux cannot see into the minds of others, but with his sharp intuition and skill when it comes to reading faces, he can tell what the alpha is expecting from him. He expects Hux to slay him, to hang his body on the balustrade to bloat and rot in the sun as a warning. Or perhaps for Hux to put him to work for the very empire he once resisted with all his might. 

But if that’s what the alpha expects of Hux, then he’s wrong. He will serve a far greater purpose than tilling the fields, or toiling in the kitchens, or even conscripted into Hux’s army. Though he looks accustomed to hard labor and tough living by his body—the bulging, sweating contours riddling it from neck to thigh—Hux doesn’t wish to see it broken and wasted on menial tasks. 

No. This alpha’s body will feed his needs directly. 

“Warrior of Ren,” Hux speaks, voice resounding around the entirety of the hall. “Black Wolf of the Western Plains. Last of your _ pathetic _ clan.” The alpha’s pained twitch doesn’t escape his notice, but sends a subtle smile to his lips. “You’ve been brought before me to face judgment for your countless crimes against the empire.”

Hux pauses for the chorus of hissing and jeering that arises from his amassed subjects. He waits for it to quiet, before continuing speaking. 

_ “_Defying official decrees of relocation. Delaying key projects in the development of prairie land. Slaughter of imperial authorities. Razing crops. Contaminating wells. _ Terrorizing _ innocent citizens of the empire.” A scatter of shouts from the crowd. “For these crimes and many others, you stand condemned.” 

Hux takes a beat, making a show of consideration. Someone from near the back of the hall shouts “_kill the swine!” _ which sends mumbled agreement through the packed pews. The alpha glares up at Hux, murder in his primal gaze, almost daring him to follow through. He tilts his chin up to show off more of his throat, preparing for Hux to withdraw the gilded dagger from within his vestments and cut it to ribbons. 

As if Hux would never grant this filthy, bloodthirsty alpha the noble death he desires. 

“Stay your cries,” Hux raises his voice, needing only one sonorous command and a lift of his chin to quiet the babble of the crowd. “I have already decided on his punishment.” He lowers his eyes, fixing them back on the cowed alpha. “Wretch. Be grateful that you’ve been spared the executioner’s blade.”

Hux’s cold, green eyes clash with warm and wild brown, sending sparks of tension across the marble floor. A hoarse, humorless laugh falls from the alpha’s lips. 

“How merciful of you.”

Chrome fingers grip into the alpha’s inky hair, yanking it sharply against his scalp. He tightens his jaw, biting down on a pained shout as his neck is forced to bend back farther than is natural. 

“Silence,” Hux commands. “From now on, you will live for nothing but pleasuring your new emperor.”

The alpha pries open his eyes, sucks the blood from his teeth, and spits it at Hux’s feet. 

“I’d rather die.”

He lurches forward with another quick strike of the baton. Hux remains impassive, though his brows pinch up in slight distaste. 

“I see. Fortunately, the choice isn’t up to you.” He waves his hand at the guards, before whirling on heel. “Bring him to my altar.”

Hux walks up the right side of the staircase, long train of his mantle susurrating over the sleek stones. Four of his strongest guards drag the chained alpha along behind him, careful not to trod on Hux’s hem. The alpha fights them every step of the way, tossing his head and twisting his torso, using all of the formidable strength and size at his disposal against them. Like a bull being dragged to slaughter, maddened with desire to live. 

Hux reaches the top of the altar long before his struggling guards, coming to stand beside the stone table in the center. He straightens out his train and waits, watching cooly. 

Once Hux’s guards manage to wrestle the alpha to the top of the stairs they force him onto his back. Their heavy boots plant on his chest and abdomen, holding him down as he struggles and snarls. Hux almost grimaces when one of them nearly kicks that proud, protuberant cock.

“Careful with him!” he snaps, but quickly returns to his composed silence as the guards back down, remembering the alpha is Hux’s prized trophy. After a nod from the captain, each of them winches their respective chains around their fists, contracting them. The guards gradually hem around the alpha, until the chains are short enough, dangling the alpha’s hands and feet like those of a puppet. Finally, with a mighty joint heave, they manage to lift the bulky alpha up in the air, his arms and legs suspended outwards from his body as if they’re ready to tear him limb from limb on a command from Hux. 

Even as he hangs completely powerless, the alpha still jerks around and sways his impressive weight in the cradle of chains, trying to swing free as the guards carry him over to the stone table and hoist him up atop it. Without missing a beat each guard pulls their respective chain through the grooves cut in the four corners of the table, pulling them taut before hooking the ends into bronze loops built into the floor. The chains yank the alpha’s ankles and wrists into two pairs of open manacles welded against the surface of the table. Once the bonds are secure, the guards rise, each closing the locks in the manacles with a series of terminal _ snaps_. They step away, standing at the edges of the altar. 

The alpha writhes atop the intricate carving in the stone, pulling against his new tethers as if he had any hope of breaking them apart. The muscles in his abdomen flex as he twists to the sides, trying to break free. His broad, tattooed chest heaves, thrumming like the exposed heart of a dying bird. Hux watches it, the movement of his hand drifting towards his crotch hidden beneath the shroud of his mantle. He can feel his cock already beginning to stir in his breeches from the sight alone, of this once mighty warrior rendered completely helpless before his new master. Hux smiles slightly. 

Now that the sacrifice lies bound to the altar, he can finally open the ritual.

Beneath the cover of his mantle, Hux starts to undress. Contrary to his lavish outer vestments, Hux wears little more than a simple tunic shirt and loose pants underneath. Not something his subjects would expect from their God-King, but the ease of removal is useful for situations such as this. Before long, they lay in a pool at his feet. Hux steps out of the discarded clothes and toes out of his soft shoes, before setting his hidden dagger, still in its gilded sheath, at the edge of the stone table.

Hux turns to face the oculus. Instead of opening the throne room out into the air, it’s filled with a twinkling rainbow of colors, comprising the largest of the many stained-glass pieces Hux had commissioned. The greatest artisans from all over the planet had come together, bringing to life a glorious representation of their emperor through shards of opal and delicate ruby, all held in place by a framework of strong beskar came. Hux stares up at it, meeting his own imposing emerald eyes. He caresses the fiery stone embedded at the heart of his mantle, which catches the light just as brightly as the unstable, blood-red star held tempered in the glass emperor’s cupped hands. The sun is not yet low enough to filter directly through the massive window, but still manages to make the whole masterpiece glow vibrantly as it bathes the altar in light. Hux tilts his head back and lets his eyes fall closed. He spreads his arms out, revealing his naked body beneath the mantle, and embraces the scattering, transmuted colors of sunlight against his skin. 

At the wordless invocation, a pair of servant girls—betas, with blue eyes and mousy hair combed back into a loose bun—approach Hux from both sides. They each carry blackwood bowls filled with pools of oil that tremble, even with each careful step. Hux’s nose twitches at their fragrance, drawing the rosy musk into his lungs. The oil is special—a chrism of sorts, derived from a distillation of Hux’s own slick, collected only by the most trusted and masterful of perfumers. The servants dip their slender fingers in the bowls, coating their hand in the oil up to the wrist. Hux tilts his chin back, anticipating that first stroke of warm, aromatic unction against his skin. 

The betas paint it all over his torso, from his chest to his belly to his hips, before lathering up his thighs and buttocks. Hux represses all responses to the feeling for now—it’s the chastest part of the entire ritual, and the betas wouldn’t dare touch their emperor in any untoward or unnecessary fashion. 

When they finish and step away with a bow, Hux rolls his head on his neck and drops his chin back into place. He turns away from the oculus, the light framing his glistening body in a golden halo. He wears his mantle more like a cape than a robe now, with the gauzy white trailing off his shoulders to reveal his awe-inspiring nakedness to the alpha, who hasn’t learned yet to appreciate the significance of such a sight. 

Usually, Hux would have his servants apply the oil to the alpha as well, but he doesn’t want them losing any of their delicate hands to those vicious teeth. It’s less important for the restrained party to be lathered up for the ritual, and regardless it already seems that the scent of the oil mixed with Hux’s slick is already having an effect on the alpha. 

He’s still struggling and fruitlessly growling between gritted teeth, but his attention has definitely shifted towards Hux instead of the guards who had bound him to the stone. He pauses in his thrashing every once and a while to flare his nostrils and take more of Hux’s scent into his lungs, unwittingly submitting to the very instincts Hux will use against him. He knows well, that if one is to tame a beast, one must first give him a taste of what he wants—with the promise of more, but _ only _ if he behaves. 

The alpha seems to realize that Hux has caught his interested staring, because he jerks his head to look pointedly away from the emperor’s nude body. Hux can’t help but let out a small laugh, one which sends goosebumps raising all over the alpha’s flesh. So responsive—whether he wants to be or not. 

Hux can’t wait to draw even more delicious reactions out of him once they’re in the thick of the ritual. 

He approaches the stone table, circling around to the end where the alpha’s ankles lie bound. The soles of his feet are calloused and nearly blackened with dirt, but Hux tries to disregard it. Of course the alpha is filthy—his soldiers had pulled him out of a ditch, from beneath the bodies of his slaughtered clan. 

Still, Hux can’t deny he’s handsome, for a rebel brute. His face bears an odd shape, jawline strong but pulled in a sharp slant to his chin which is only accentuated by the furl of his wild hair. His skin is pale for a man who spent so much time in the sun, but speckled with pockets of dark moles, akin to constellations connected in the night sky. He’s built well but not unnaturally sculpted, not like some of the nigh-grotesque statues Hux had destroyed when he ascended to the throne. Scarring maps the terrain of the alpha’s body, from his thick thighs to his bulging neck and all the way out to his chipped nails and filthy toes. Every inch of it begs for his touch, for Hux to own and subjugate and transform it however he wishes. 

It’s not impossible, to see what the alpha could become if he were to be reshaped by Hux’s hands. Thick scars could be rubbed with balms and made to fade to attractive pink and silver against the skin. Nails could be filed down and clipped of excess skin, soaked in rosewater until the stinging faded. Feet could be washed and scrubbed free of calluses, until they were as soft and tender as Hux’s were, until even the scrape of stone floors against his soles was too much. The alpha didn’t seem the type to wear the soft loafers Hux favored, but he’d look lovely in a pair of leather boots, interior lined with luxurious red velvet. 

Not that Hux doesn’t appreciate all the skin and muscle bared to him by the alpha’s nudity, but he can’t help but imagine how dashing he’d look in full imperial regalia—draped black and red from tip to toe, vast chest accentuated by ornate plate armor, ribbed leggings and the long skirt of his tunic hiding his magnificent cock from undeserving eyes, reserving it only for Hux. 

The image of an iron circlet nestled in that wild hair, now washed and combed until silky, briefly flits across Hux’s mind before he flicks it away. No need to get that hasty. Something like a cock ring would be far more fitting for the time being**, **and much more entertaining. Hux will talk to his smiths about it. 

The gauzy train of his mantle drifts along the ground as Hux walks the rest of the way to the stone table, settling against the altar’s concentric runes when he stops, arms folded behind his back at rest. This close, he can smell the alpha better than before, and he finds that he likes it despite the stench of battle and sweat that clings to the alpha’s skin. It’s a strong, earthy musk, with hints of moss and teakwood, the whole odor persisting in harsh defiance of the perfumed and pristine cleanliness of Hux’s palace. He has heard that other emperors in the distant past kept exotic beasts to hunt for sport, or to pit against one another in bloodthirsty displays of savagery. This alpha reminds him of such a beast, as he struggles and stinks and snaps at the air. 

But even the largest and most virile of beasts didn’t possess such an impressive cock. 

Hux’s eyes follow the splayed fork of the alpha’s legs, roving over the coarse hair foresting his muscular calves and thighs all the way to his groin, where it thickens into an impressive cluster of dense, black ringlets. It wreathes the base of the alpha’s cock like a patch of briars wreathes the trunk of a mighty tree as it grows, striving up towards the sky. Hux’s mouth goes wet at the sight, as does the space between his thighs. Never has he been so blessed as to witness anything like this before. Even though the alpha is half-hard at best, his cock is already far thicker and longer than Hux has ever seen. And he’s not particularly inexperienced, despite his virginal attire. Many of his subjects have jumped at the opportunity to serve as the emperor’s consort, but none of the lovers Hux has had over the course of his reign can even hope to match this warrior’s endowment. What a happy coincidence, that this alpha is both a symbolic conquest for his empire _ and _ in possession of the object of Hux’s greatest desire. 

What joy, that this cock now belongs to him and him alone. It’s only right for someone of his grandiose standing to take such a lovely spoil of war.

Hux kneels up on the edge of the stone table, situating himself right between the alpha’s spread legs. For a moment he pauses, considering his next move. It would certainly be humiliating, a well-needed breakdown of the alpha’s masculinity and unshakeable honor if Hux were to fuck him like this. He could force the alpha to come on his small, undeserving omega cock if he wanted to, but thankfully for him, Hux cares less about shaming the enemy than he does satisfying his own needs. 

Pleasantly, riding the alpha into the stone will do both, which is exactly what Hux decides he'll do. 

The alpha looks down the length of his body at Hux, who straightens his posture as he parts his thighs slightly, adjusting his knees so they don’t grind painfully against the stone surface. Hux smirks when he catches him staring, arching his spine back as much as he can in this position. It exposes more of his belly and chest to the alpha’s eyes, drawing his attention to a veritable banquet of delicate skin, Hux’s inhumanly pristine pallor adorned only with the occasional blush of creamy pink around his nipples and the base of his cock. 

“Would you like for me to put on a show?” Hux asks, trailing his finger down the soft midline of his body with one hand. “You’ve been given a rare private audience. I can think of many who would burn their own houses to the ground to be in your position, alpha. ” Hux stops to circle around his navel, siphoning the alpha’s interest to the spot, then laughs again when he tears his eyes away and instead stares at the vaulted ceiling. He gives the alpha’s thigh a firm squeeze with his other hand and feels a sense of smugness. It’s already proving to be such a pure pleasure to toy with him. Poor thing. He wants so badly to resist Hux’s allure, yet in truth he’s not quite as stoic a he hopes to be. Hux has already noticed the way his cock twitches and seeps pre-come against his inner thigh, unable to withstand the presence of a naked omega that smells of slick both fresh and preserved in the oil. 

“Perhaps I should perform for you like your painted dancers. Rub myself against your bare body, worship every contour with my hips and hands. You would like that, wouldn’t you alpha?”

“No.” 

“Are you sure? Because that’s not what this is telling me.” Hux reaches forward, giving the tip of the alpha’s cock a small tug. It earns him a reaction immediately—an unmistakable, rolling tension in the alpha’s body as his blood starts to pool down towards his loins. “This is telling me that you want it. That you’re ready to surrender.”

The alpha lets out a loud, barking scoff. “Spare me. I’m not one of your domesticated _pets, _emperor.” He clacks his teeth on the word, in hopes to make it bleed. “Those gutless, emasculated alphas with pompous silks and filed fangs that you parade about to make yourself look more powerful.” Hux ignores the slight and instead lets out a small hum as he gives the cock in his hand a proper stroke, thumbing around the tattooed braid at the base. The alpha bites back on whatever insult may have sprung to his tongue and keeps his eyes fixed on the ceiling, though his lips pull back to show a hint of fang. Either a last-ditch intimidation tactic or an expression of his mounting lust as it takes over. Hux will accept either one It’s not as if it will change the alpha’s fate now that he sits within his grasp. 

Hux strokes off the alpha’s cock a couple more times, both to slick it up with oil from his palm and because he wants to admire every inch of it. Holding it emphasizes its girth, as even Hux’s long fingers just barely touch together as they wrap around the shaft and coax more blood to channel through it, to engorge the flesh to its full breathtaking size. He spreads oil over the head of the alpha’s cock, nail dragging against the thin, dusky skin to pull it back. He isn’t cut like the consorts filling Hux’s harem, which only has his breath coming quicker, more excited. _ Hells_. The descriptions relayed to Hux by his guards hadn’t done it justice. Merely _ looking _ at it as the alpha laid out on the stone before him hadn’t done it justice. He needs to _ feel _ it in order to truly understand what a spectacular specimen it is in just about every aspect—a cock of sheer mythic size fit only for an emperor to enjoy. To think that it had been roving about on the outskirts of his empire all this time, swinging between the alpha’s thighs or knotted inside unworthy holes. Squatting alongside its owner in sordid conditions, unconsecrated, for so long. 

Now it will know true, transcendental glory.

Hux moves from between the alpha’s spread legs to straddle his abdomen, the trail of his mantle draping over everything in its wake, fanning out and spilling over the stone table like a pair of long, translucent wings taking flight from his shoulders. The feather-light fabric floats over the alpha’s hips and legs, keeping him covered like as shroud as if he were a corpse lying in state and not an undeserving cur about to receive the holy gift of his emperor’s hole. But the alpha will become worthy soon enough, sanctified through sex. 

Hux wastes no more time. 

The first breach of the alpha’s cock is enough to cause pain, but Hux quickly transmutes his startled gasp into a long, soothing breath as it pops past the rim and sinks inside of him. He’s forgotten exactly how it feels—it’s been a while since he’s allowed another to penetrate him, the rebel attacks having distracted him from physical pleasures for quite some time. Hux lets his eyes flutter half-closed, recentering himself before he pushed his ass down another inch, then another, letting his own weight assist him. He feels his hole protest with a twinge as it stretches to fit the intrusion, but the ache gradually numbs into something bearable, even pleasant, as more of the alpha’s thick cock slides through it. When it’s wedged halfway inside of Hux he takes a moment to pause, both to unleash a bracing breath and trace where he and the alpha are joined together. A new wave of slick gushes out of his hole when he hooks a finger inside and opens himself up wider, unwittingly sinking his ass down another fraction of an inch. 

The sudden, accidental—yet fortuitous—stretch sends a rebounding ripple of pleasure throughout Hux’s body, like a roughly hewn rock dropped into a clear, tranquil pool. It drives a tight moan to his lip, which he allows to pass. If he were a coarser man, Hux might have even cursed because of how good it felt. Of course the alpha, being of less refined stock, does react by spitting out something undecipherable that could either be some sort of primitive cuss or just the mindless grunt of a breeding animal. 

Hux steadies himself as the alpha’s hips buck up involuntarily, driving more of his cock through the slick hole on instinct. He suppresses a whine that threatens to burst from his mouth as the alpha penetrates even deeper, unwilling to let such an undignified noise pass his lips just yet. Even with a fat cock filling out his ass, Hux manages to keep his composure steady and posture statuesque. 

The alpha has no such restraint. His wrists and ankles may be shackled to the stone table but his hips are free to move, and his body takes full advantage of that—bucking up against Hux over and over again, though by his expression he isn’t all too pleased by the instinctive response. He keeps his eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched tight, refusing to look at Hux even as he pushes the last bit of his length through his hole, slick and oiled buttocks coming to rest against the alpha’s muscular upper thighs. Hux could see it, though—the flickers of arousal in his features, the quickening of his pulse in his neck, the more laborious heave of his chest as he took in breath. Hux catches him licking his lips—no more than a quick flick of dry pink, but it shows that the alpha isn’t as immune to this as he wants to be. He wants to be the noble warrior, defending the honor of a dead clan by holding out against the desires of his new master—but he’s already cracking like poorly blown glass. 

No matter. In a way, it’s all for the best, as Hux will shape something far finer from his remains. 

Hux takes a moment to stop and breathe once he’s completely seated against the alpha’s hips, that massive cock having by now sunk all the way into the deepest pit of his belly. He almost feels as if he’s just eaten an entire imperial feast all by himself, but it’s a good sort of fullness, not quite an overindulgence. Hux presses his fingers just below his navel, wishing he could feel just how far the alpha pierced inside him. He’s stretched him further than any other alpha has before—and this isn’t even his knotted girth yet. There’s only a hint of it, near the base of his cock, a predictor of future pleasure. 

Hux brushes his hair off his forehead and ensure his crown is settled firmly atop his skull, in no danger of falling off. Excited as he feels about the alpha’s knot, there’s no sense in getting ahead of himself. There is time to build to that point. 

After all, the alpha isn’t leaving the altar until he at least gives the emperor a proper knotting. 

Outside, the sun finally falls far enough to hit the stained glass windows dead-on, painting a kaleidoscope of red and green and alabaster across the alpha’s supine body, filling in the spaces between his tattoos. It’s growing late in the day but the ritual has already begun and will extend long into the night if need be. Hux feels the warmth of the sun shimmer and shine on his mantle and warm the oil rubbed into his skin, but a far greater warmth builds in his loins as he starts to move. 

At first, Hux drags his hole along the length of the alpha’s cock, periodically twitching and spasming around it as he lifts his hips. Despite his desire to draw this out, torture the alpha with his own undesired lust, Hux loathes the idea of that cock slipping out of him, or prolonging seeking his own pleasure for much longer. He quickly drops his ass then raises it again before repeating the whole process, imagining his hips are as sleek and powerful as a chariot wheel. The cock slips and rubs against his tight inner walls, another trickle of the alpha’s own pre-come mingling with Hux’s slick to ease some of the harsher friction. 

“You’re.._.enjoying _ this,” Hux comments, once he feels he’s set a proper pace, “perhaps...you don’t hate me as much as you believe you do, _ hmm?_”

For a moment, the alpha doesn’t respond, his body only sliding with the movement of Hux’s hips, but a rough jerk has him hissing between his teeth.“V-Vile slime,” he mutters, followed by an angry, bestial snort, “I’ll make you pay for this.”

“Stars. Such vitriol.” Hux shakes his head, raising his ass until only the tip of the alpha’s cock is left inside him. “So unnecessary. You’ve seen how my subjects adore me. They place all their faith in me, and thus they are richly rewarded under my rule. You could be like them too, alpha, if you stopped fighting.” With a grunt, he drops back down, taking the cock halfway.

“_Never_. You’re a monster,” the alpha snarls, bucking his hips to meet Hux, violently pushing the rest of the way inside of him, “it’s my destiny to destroy you. Flame-Witch. Slavebearer. Wyrm of the Bone-White Flame, Kil—” 

“—Killer of Stars,” Hux finishes, smoothly riding the rough thrust. He knows the names by which they call him, from grandiose and flattering to the usual vile drivel spat from alpha to omega. 

Another sharp buck, like an unbridled horse. The alpha bares his fangs, eye twitching as sweat trickles into it. 

“You blot out the sky with your warships and cast shadows all over the land. You seek to destroy all that defy you, but I will bring you down from your celestial throne and _ slay you _with my own two hands.”

“What, these hands?” Hux arches over the alpha’s helpless body, gripping his tense wrists just below the manacles. “You intend to slay me with these hands, warrior of Ren?”

“If I were free, I would tear your vile taunts out of your throat.”

“Ah, but you aren’t free, are you?”

The alpha jerks his head off the stone table and gnashes his teeth, snapping at the air between the two of them, like it’s something tangible he could tear through in lieu of Hux’s unspoiled flesh. “My spirit is free, even if my body is not. I will never be your _ pet! _” 

He continues to snarl and rattle the manacles against the stone table, dirty nails clawing at nothing. Unfazed, Hux rubs a thumb over the alpha’s pulse, racing like he assumes it might in the heat of battle. Hux could imagine the alpha in the thick of combat, where a vicious brute such as him feels most at home. Muscles glistening with sweat and blood, nostrils flared, ferocity pulling the pupils in his eyes down to pinpricks. Wielding that massive claymore in a single weighty paw, the very same weapon Hux had ordered hung in his dining room as a trophy of his conquest. 

Hux slowly begins to run his palms down the alpha’s forearms, briefly pausing where they bend at the elbow. The alpha’s tremendous biceps bulge beneath Hux’s fingers, like a prey animal making itself bigger in order to scare off a predator. Impressive as they feel, the thick muscles rippling through the alpha’s arms are useless now, pinned to the stone table beneath the twofold strength of the iron cuffs and Hux’s hands. Helpless to do anything but endure his curiosity. 

Ignoring the alpha’s struggles, Hux traces over the braided patterns of tattoos wrapping around his restrained limbs, as if admiring a new masterpiece he’d commissioned. The alpha can hardly compare to something so elegant, but there’s _ potential _ in his brutish body that entices Hux to lay his hands on him, to taste and feel what he has to offer, how he could be reforged into something greater. Hux’s fingertips dance around the dark hair sprouting out from hollows under his arms, matted strands dense and beaded with glistening sweat. Hux almost wants to bury his nose into them and inhale, draw the musky, bestial smell of the alpha into his lungs—the smell he would undoubtedly refine and distill in time. 

Still shifting around the alpha’s cock to keep the spark of arousal alive for the both of them, Hux gives up on all talk for now and instead follows the flow of the alpha’s tattoos with aloof fascination, gliding over his adducted shoulders to where they pool across his firm pectorals, each gibbous and pale as a rising moon. The designs grow more elaborate here, now that they have a greater canvas of skin to work with, with the streams of braided ink bursting into tributaries of curled leaves and stylized serpents, before culminating in two large, crested dragons whose open maws arch towards the alpha’s breastbone. 

“Fascinating,” Hux breathes. “Did these hurt, warrior?”

“S-Stop,” the alpha moans as Hux presses his manicured thumbs into the eyes of the dragons, “they are not for you to defile.”

Luckily for him, Hux’s interest in the tattoos tapers off, though in exchange he’s now far more enamored with the contours of the alpha’s overall chest. He cups a pectoral in each hand, framing them with his pale, delicate fingers before digging them into the plump meat. The alpha blushes, a strange but by no means unappealing look on his roughened face. His lower lip trembles with the flutterings of a moan before he dug his teeth into it, trying to keep it steady and stiff. Hux notices and leers down at him, giving his chest another appreciative squeeze. 

“You’re sensitive here, aren’t you? So sensitive for an alpha,” Hux says as he rubs the pads of his thumbs over each of the alpha’s nipples at the same time. The alpha’s teeth drag back against his lip, forcing down another whine as Hux strokes the pebbled buds with the tip of his nails. He pinches one between his fingers, giving it a merciless twist.

“You enjoy pain, don’t you warrior?” Hux relishes in the alpha’s muffled gasps as he turned his nipple in his grasp puffy and tender. “If only we had more time, I could draw this out into a true test of your tolerance.”

The alpha blinks tears from his eyes.

“Pain...paves the path to glory…” he says hoarsely, breath hitching as Hux flicks his other nipples, before deciding to rake well-polished nails over his chest. He leaves bright red marks and wisps of stripped skin in his wake, marking the alpha with his own commemorative tattoos. The occasional bead of blood bubbles up amidst the thick black patterns, filling the pale spaces of flesh left in between the ink with daubs of red. Hux looks on hungrily but resists the urge to lick them. He mustn’t. Not until the alpha has been purified. 

Hux starts to move his hips again, far more urgently especially once he finds the best way to angle the cock inside of him, ensuring that it glances pleasurably off his prostate with each thrust. He can feel the alpha leak more pre-come, aroused despite his continued protests, deep down wanting little more than to fuck the warm passage squeezing around him. Hux keeps his hands planted on the defined planes of the alpha’s abdomen for balance, rolling his head to the side and meeting his dark eyes with a dreamy gaze. 

“I feel good, don’t I, warrior?” Hux murmurs, fingers kneading idly against the alpha’s abdomen,“far better than any painted dancer you might drag back to your tent, or any pack omega willing to take your knot.” Not that it really matters whether Hux is better than any other partners the alpha has had. They are all dead now, slaughtered as accomplices in the crimes of their mates. As far as Hux knows, the alpha beneath him has never bonded—if he had, the death of his omega would’ve most likely already crippled him, reduced him to a broken mind and limp body. Perhaps a warrior like this alpha had never sought anything beyond mere physical pleasure, but that just makes the plans Hux has for him all the more appealing. 

The alpha, predictably, growls and snaps his teeth at the mere mention of his slain clan.

“Keep them out of your filthy mouth,” he grits out, anger rekindled by Hux’s scorn, “I won’t have you smearing their memory.”

The alpha spikes his hips up with sudden and violent force, trying his best to topple Hux from his perch, maybe even knock him off the stone table for good and subject him to equal humiliation as he lies there with pre-come and slick leaking out of his debauched hole. Unfortunately for him, Hux had already been expecting the sudden movement and rolls with it using little effort, straightening to his full kneeling height before dropping back down and sheathing the alpha’s cock all the way back inside of him. It misses his prostate this time but makes the alpha writhe in pleasurable agony, which is almost as good. 

“Why do you still resist?” Hux derides, lips tightening in contempt as he wriggles his ass teasingly against the alpha’s groin. “You’ve already lost your pride, alpha. Look at you. You’re bound to my altar, in my hall, in my palace. Your cock trapped inside of me.” Hux pats his bare belly in emphasis. “You’re helpless. So why fight?”

The alpha’s eyes flick open a fraction, words coming out in a ragged breath. “I fight...because it is my destiny.”

Hux nods. “Such a noble, mighty warrior. But foolish.” He simpers, waving his fingers in glib dismissal. “Just like the rest of your silly warriors. Constrained by an imaginary fate.”

“My clan’s customs are no lesser than yours. The prophecy—”

“Prophecy? Inhaling hallucinogenic smoke and studying animal innards is no exact science,” Hux chides, squeezing even more tightly around the alpha’s throbbing length. “You’ll be wise to stop believing in such things, now that you belong to me.”

The alpha pushes through the waves of pleasure and bares his fangs. “I belong to _ no one_,” he says before _ spitting_, thick yellow glob of it splattering against Hux’s mantle, barely missing the priceless jewel at the center, “least of all a twisted, barren omega bitch—”

The alpha’s heart freezes against his ribcage, cheek pressed against the cold stone of the table. His eyes are wide, heart in his throat. He blinks and feels a sharp, wet stinging well in his cheek. Blood trickles from the thin wound cutting the side of his face diagonally, slashed from nostril to ear and just barely missing the corner of his eye. Perhaps too shallow to scar—perhaps not. 

Hux holds the gleaming dagger above the alpha, parallel to the planes of his chest, like one of the fledgling warships he keeps hovering over his domain, and watches the blood bead down the honed edge before dropping down upon the alpha’s quaking abdomen. 

“And that is why all your fellow warriors are _ dead_, alpha,” Hux hisses, voice as slight and sharp as his blade. Bloodlust and pleasure momentarily intertwine as he trails the tip of the dagger down the midline of the alpha’s body as if toying with the idea of gutting him and feeding the altar with his entrails in lieu of seed. “They were all too stupid for their own good. They wanted to fight instead of submit like they should have. And for what? Death, oblivion. Perhaps they would have lived if they hadn’t challenged me. If they hadn’t clung to their inane pride.” 

One of the beta servants approaches the table when Hux holds out his dagger, swiftly cleaning it with a silk cloth before sheathing it in the retrieved scabbard. Without breaking the gaze he has locked on the alpha’s injured face, Hux sits as high up on his knees as he can muster and leans forward slightly, until only the head of the alpha’s cock remains inside of him. Beads of excess slick trickle down the turgid shaft like wax dissolving a lit candle. Hux pauses, hole twitching around the tip of the cock, drinking in the sight of not only the alpha’s fresh blood—but also the hint of genuine _ terror _ in his eyes, as great a treasure as any Hux has won through war. 

“You’re just fortunate I have no interest in fucking a _ corpse_.”

The alpha lets out a bellow that reaches even the furthest pews in the hall as Hux drops back down against his cock with all of his weight, sheathing it completely inside of himself once more. Starlight explodes in Hux’s vision as the tip resounds against his prostate, like a hammer to a bell, sending a tantalizing spiral of pleasure shooting up his spine. His own cock bounces and bobs with each roll of his hips, leaking a glistening smear across his belly. His fingers flutter with the urge to grasp it and stroke him over the edge—but no, Hux will come on this alpha’s knot or he will not come at all. 

“The ritual is almost complete,” Hux says with half of the alpha’s cock inside of him, holding for a second before thrusting his hips back down, “are you ready to accept me as your new god?”

“_N-never_.” The alpha still resists, but there’s hesitation, a wavering there that might be wear from their coupling and might be genuine acquiescence. Intrigued, Hux decides to pick at the indecisive wound growing in the alpha’s stoic heart and leans low over his body. Again Hux slows the pace of his hips, allowing for a lull with the alpha’s cock still thick and throbbing inside of him. 

In his first show of true gentleness since capturing his prize, Hux drifts his hand through the inky hair spilling out from the alpha’s skull, letting the locks curl around his fingers. They’re dirty, matted with blood and grime, and as Hux strokes through the knots he even finds a bone hairpin tangled in one. 

“Would you like to know what will happen, should the ritual be successful?” Hux says as he draws the pin out of the messy hair, admiring the inset glass beads before tossing it aside with a _ clink_. He almost croons his words, talking to the alpha as if he were his lover, not his slavemaster.

The alpha says nothing, dark eyes cast to the side. Hux continues, unbothered. 

“You would be freed of your bonds. The beta servants would be brought to your side with a large basin, filled to the brim with water tapped from the purest springs in the land.” Hux trails his hand from the alpha’s oily hair to his cheek, rubbing a thumb over the rough speckle of stubble. “They would wash you, every inch of you, free you of blood and soil and the weight of your past life. You would be dried and dressed in fresh, simple linens, then led down the steps by my careful hand. Cleansed, polished. Submissive.” Hux speaks the next word in soft reverence, eyes falling, golden lashes briefly dusting his cheeks. “Mine.”

The alpha shivers at Hux’s unabashed possessiveness, though not as unpleasantly as he perhaps wants**.** Hux feels his cock effuse inside of him, adding to the warmth in his loins. He goes on.

“You would be brought to my private quarters, at the highest tower in the palace, where you could look out onto the world around you until it curved towards the horizon. You would be given your own bed made with the softest silks, rich food like none you’ve ever tasted. All that would ever be asked of you would be acquiescence—and the occasional taste of that transcendent cock. You called me barren, but those were lies, fed to you by false prophets who only wanted to trick you into doing their bidding.” Hux cups his belly with his other hand, smoothing his fingers over the tender flesh. “In truth, my body would provide fertile ground for your seed, a safe place where it could mingle with mine, germinating into a dynasty that would last for generations, that would have your warrior’s blood coursing through its veins forevermore.”

Hux trails his finger down to dip into his navel. He imagines it protruding forth, decorating the swell of a womb made plenteous with life, and smiles. They would be beautiful children, with wild dark hair and cunning green eyes, the wild vigor of their sire tamed and civilized by life in the palace. 

“Now, doesn’t that sound far better than striving for some futile destiny? For the fight you’ve already lost? Doesn’t that sound better than being _ alone?_”

The alpha lets out a tight noise at that, somewhere between a sob and a yowl. His dark eyes glisten with the tears of lust and loss, his body and soul torn between two opposing desires. His fate as a warrior, the savior of a clan whose blood now bakes into the cracked earth beneath an indifferent sun, still warring against the urge to submit, to accept the easy life offered by the man who used to be his enemy. 

And it would be so _ easy_. The alpha could have everything his heart desired and more, achieve a far greater destiny than the one he sought flailing about in battle. Hux sees it in his mind’s eye already, like a vision. They could be truly beautiful together—the strong, celebrated warrior forging his own destiny, and the immaculate emperor steering him with a firm yet compassionate hand. 

But Hux still senses his conflict, the desperation to continue fighting at all cost. It almost makes him feel sorry for the alpha, a bit sad that he’s suffering just because of how badly his clan indoctrinated him, twisted him against the only man who could truly set him free of his painful destiny. Hux straightens back up, hands falling to the alpha’s solar plexus as he looks upon him with downcast eyes. 

“Still you resist?” Any genuine pity Hux feels comes out as disdain. “Then I have no choice but take you apart as thoroughly as I can.”

He resumes the intense pace from before, riding the alpha even harder than he had throughout the entire ritual as Hux senses the horizon of his arousal drawing nearer, the sun rising to set the pair aflame with passion. He can even feel the alpha start to falter beneath him, unraveling from the heat that’s consuming his helpless body as Hux rides him, slowly reducing him to an even baser, almost unwrought state of pure animal lust. Drool wets his thick, plump lips, and his eyelids fluttered like tattered banners in a gale. His hands clench and unclench, dirty nails biting into his palm, and for a moment Hux can only imagine what those massive paws might feel like gripping his hips, throwing Hux down to upend their positions, channeling all of that pent up rage and retribution into Hux as he fucks him raw and bloody—

So close, so close. They are both so close, Hux can smell it in their scents as they mingled, nay, _ melted _ together. The air around Hux grows hot and thick as he chased his orgasm, ferociously riding the alpha’s cock as he feels the knot start to swell at the base. He loses grip on his composure, allowing rapturous moans and whines to spill past his lips and echo around the chancel. Unable to resist any longer, Hux finally takes his erection in hand, giving it a tentative tug. Most of the oil has dried against his palm, so Hux smears his fingers through some of his own excess slick and pumps his shaft, rubbing the soft, firm flesh as he clenches his hole in time with each stroke.

As he rises closer and closer to the zenith of his pleasure, to the point where he’s practically bouncing atop the alpha’s hips, Hux’s powerful scent grows more potent. It’s already strong thanks to the oil slathered all over his body, but with his cock hair and his ass slick it swells to a truly stunning might, breaking free of the inscribed borders of the stone table and beginning to entangle the entire chancel space. It crawls along the ground and springs through the air, so alive and heavy it felt almost tangible, like the bated and bloodthirsty breath of a stalking beast. 

Hux’s scent spares nobody in its path, preying upon the interesting of all fallen in the path of its indiscriminate allure. Standing at the edge of the altar, the servant betas start to their lips and watch their emperor with tighter, more entranced pupils just as the imperial guards, including their usually stoic captain, suddenly feel hot and restless beneath their many stifling layers. The scent writhes around their ankles before spilling down the fluted channels in the stone pillar, spreading out over the floor below. In the pews, Hux’s subjects catch a whiff of their emperor’s arousal and respond immediately, as if they all share a single mind—rubbing at crotches and breasts between their simple clothes without shame, mouths open and tongues lolling with slick pants, so entranced by their emperor’s pleasure that they can’t contain themselves. Some slip their hands under the hems of their homespun robes to finger themselves open or feverishly grasp at their cocks, while others find a partner and pin them down against the wooden benches to devour, imagining it’s the emperor beneath them, ready to receive their visceral devotion. Moans and exalting cries echo against the austere stone walls and scintillating stained glass, Hux’s subjects relishing without shame in the sensual fervor of his sermon. 

Unable to withstand the milieu of scents and sounds storming in the air around him the alpha finally crumbles, coming with a roar as his spine arches off the stone slab so sharply that it seems like it might snap. The muscles in his belly and chest pull taut, strained with the sudden white lightning of orgasm as he thrusts up one last time, sheathing his cock completely in Hux’s ass. The alpha’s knot finally swells to bursting, tense like a fist, and locks inside of Hux’s hole as he spurts wave after wave of cum deep inside of his belly. Hux practically sings at the pressure and warmth suddenly filling him exactly the way he’s wanted all this time, for his entire life in fact, and as their cries warble together in erotic accord Hux—_ finally _—lets himself come. 

The rest of the palace whites out, and for a moment Hux wonders if this is what death feels like, if the murderous alpha warrior has finally gotten his wish and slain his enemy after all. 

Though if he has to die, then penetrated on a godly cock isn’t the worst way to go. 

Slowly they wind down from the staggering climax, joined together at the hips, bodies still wracked with labored panting and unraveling heat. Hux’s entire body feels warm and pliant, so he rests forward, propping himself up on the alpha’s chest once again. Hux feels the unsteady rise and fall of the alpha’s breathing, the rapid pulse of his heart as it starts to even back out. A final drizzle of slick drips from Hux’s twitching asscheeks, spotting the runes engraved in the stone beneath. The alpha’s knot holds firm even as his cock softens, spurting out the last of its seed towards its home within Hux’s womb before it starts to go limp inside of him. 

Neither Hux nor the alpha speak for several minutes. Perhaps because they don’t have the capacity to, perhaps because the heady, heavenly hush left by the echo of their moans is too perfect and polished to shatter. Stirring dust scintillates in the light pouring from the grand oculus, and all at once Hux feels as if he’s suspended in liquid glass just like his counterpart painted in the window above him, everything around them beautiful and frozen in time. 

But then a low, brutish rumble starts to build in the silence, shattering the whole blissful illusion. 

Hux feels the alpha’s laughter before he hears it, bubbling in his chest beneath Hux’s palm before it froths and spills from his lips. He sounds a little crazed but his eyes are lucid beneath the shade of his long lashes and shine with triumph that shouldn’t be there, not after such a thunderous orgasm, not while he’s still knotted and vulnerable beneath Hux. 

“Looks like your ritual failed,” the alpha says with a crude sneer. “My fate is still my own, emperor. I’m stronger than you.” His crude, guttural laughter grows louder, confident and victorious and a little hysterical, only for it all to choke into silence when Hux’s hand flies to his throat. The alpha coughs as Hux squeezes tight, pressing a palm firmly against his windpipe. 

“You really are a fool, alpha,” Hux chides, voice all a sinister chorale playing upon the keys of alpha’s quaking ribs, “you think you’ve earned your freedom after one measly knotting? How _funny_.”

“The hell are you..._talking _ abou—” Another squeeze. Hux’s nails bit harder into the vulnerable flesh.

“The ritual can last as long as it needs to. As long as _ I _ desire” Hux fixes the alpha with a heavy-lidded look, indulgent cruelty brewing in those shadowy seas of green, the calm center of the storm passing as gales return to whip the waves into turmoil. 

The alpha’s eyes widen. “You don’t mean…” 

A smile spreads over Hux’s lips. “Neither I nor the ritual are appeased with only one offering,” he says with a laugh, releasing the throat in his grasp. 

The alpha lets out a raspy moan as it finally dawns on him, dread gripping his heart as Hux’s hole clamps down around his cock and forces it to harden again, like molten metal cooling to fit a new mold. Disregarding the alpha’s despair, Hux reaches one hand beneath him to help rub the base of his knot as the other comes to rest against his come-swollen belly. He purrs at the satisfying feeling, the stretch and weight of the seed already sown inside of him, kept from leaking back out by the cock still speared through his hole. The alpha had fed his womb well, but Hux wanted more. He wouldn’t be satisfied until the alpha was purified and he was carrying the beginnings of a new dynasty. 

“You see?” Hux says, firmly pressing his fingers into his belly. “There is so much more you have to give me.”

“Y-you parasite!” the alpha says, ineffectually snapping his teeth. “Loathsome depraved seed-stealing omega _ witch_,” he continues, growling as he thrashes about and tries to buck Hux off, not for the first time, but now managing only a ghost of a weak writhe against the stone. “You’ve had your fun, now I demand you release me!”

Hux responds by grabbing the alpha’s face instead of his throat and bending over his body until he almost lies on top of it, bringing them nose to nose. Their gazes lock as Hux studies the alpha with a growing smirk, digging his nails into his already injured cheek. He can still see the embers of defiant hatred flickering in the dark depths of the alpha’s eyes, even as his softening cock revives within Hux’s hole, forcibly readied for the next round—and the next, and the next, until the alpha is finally broken and begs for reprieve, for Hux to care for and keep him, to cleanse his mind of pain and preserve him in a state of tranquility and soothing, sweet submission. 

“I will _ never_,” Hux whispers against the alpha’s mouth, the moan of horror building in his throat transforming into a pained scream as needle-sharp omega fangs dig into the plump flesh of his lower lip and _ pull_. “Not until you’re mine.” The scream peters out into a whimper as Hux lets go, licking blood from his teeth.

Sitting back up, Hux starts to rock his hips with revived intensity. Wrecked sobbing fills the air but he ignores it, heart cold as stone even as his loins flicker with fresh flame. The ritual may end up lasting into the night at this point, but he almost finds himself looking forward to it. 

After all, Hux is not the sort of ruler who has a problem with waiting in order to get what he wants. And he feels absolutely _ certain _ his libido will long outlast any pride the alpha has left. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed this fic! It kind of grew into more than I thought it was going to be, so I'm curious about people's thoughts. 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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